


Memento vivere

by Kosho



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Backstory, Bisexual Male Character, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood Mage Inquisitor - Freeform, Blood Mages, Blood Magic, Blood and Injury, Boys Kissing, Cassandra Pentaghast's Disgusted Noises, Cassandra is So Done, Cousin Incest, Dorian Being Dorian, Hair-pulling, Inquisitor Backstory, Kissing, Loss, M/M, Magic Fingers, Magic Tricks, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon, Qarinus, Rough Kissing, Suicide Attempt, Tags May Change, Tevinter Inquisitor, The Conclave, Top Dorian Pavus
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-16
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2018-09-17 20:23:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 19,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9341747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho
Summary: The fate of Thedas left in the hands of the Herald of Andraste, incidentally a blood mage from Tevinter.





	1. Chapter 1

Elis slid the fine teacup across the table, smiling warmly. Callias leaned back in his seat, one leg draped elegantly over the other. His gauntleted hand resting across his knee, hooking the handle loosely, dark eyes staring across the edge to the other man. Hard to believe they were even remotely related, their appearances almost perfect opposites. Elis had medium length blonde curls, and curious grey eyes, fair skinned, as were most of his family members. On the other hand, he was tanned, not deeply, but noticeably from his cousin, his hair tumbling in raven waves to his hips, a single braid adorning his otherwise natural style. Both mages, there was little difference there. It was completely forgivable to assume they weren’t close at all, but if not, he would certainly not have left the creature comforts of the mansion back home to make the lengthy journey to Ostwick. Not least for a cup of piss weak tea. Still, his presence was already frowned upon, and for the sake of minimizing the negative attention, he scrapped his usual attire for looser garments, a long silk tunic, adorned in intricate patterns and a simple pair of pants, both lined in thin furs on the inside. As ever, he kept a tightly coiled, short whip draped at his right hip. 

 

“What is this matter you mentioned in your letter, Elis?” he asked, taking a sip. 

 

“Not thrilled to see me then?” he countered with a soft chuckle. 

 

The sharp metal adorning his fingers clinked, brushing the edge of the table as he shifted forward, leaning closer. 

 

“Would I be here otherwise?” he sighed, his lips twisting at the bitter blend. 

 

“Have you heard about the Conclave? Mages and Templars getting together to talk peace that’ll never happen.” he answered partly, curious if word had reached that far. 

 

Naturally, it had. Tevinter was always moderately curious about what was going on in the South, but this, this felt different. Something big was going on, and it was a desire to figure out what had his home stirred up so that led him to discover more, if possible. 

 

“Yes, we have heard certain rumors to that effect. What about it?” he wondered, almost evasive in his tone. 

 

Finishing off the remnants of his tea, he idly tapped his fingers on the table, a soft metallic sound echoing shortly in the room with every gentle strike. It wasn’t impatience, not by a long shot, only a need to fill the silence between words, quiet was never good, at least not in his mind. If something was quiet, something was wrong. That was usually his experience at least. 

 

“Come with me, cousin. I want you at my side for moral support. I’m not particularly so weak as to not be able to defend myself if things go poorly, but you know there’s no one I’d rather have watching my back than you.” he told him. 

 

Sweeping a hand through his hair, he brought it to rest under his chin thoughtfully, a smirk playing on his lips. “You’re not concerned that having...oh...I don’t know...a  _ Tevinter blood mage _ dragging the Trevelyan name through the mud?” 

 

“Please. I hardly care about what happens to the Trevelyan name, it isn’t like I’m going to be in charge. Reckless behavior and magic aside, I’m probably more likely to take a knife to the throat in the brothel or the tavern than I am to die in battle. Father hardly concerns himself with what I do as it is. As for you, couldn’t you just open a vein and kill everyone if you had to?” he said almost cynically. 

 

“Now, this is not the words of a good upstanding chantry boy. You’d make the Divine herself weep with a tongue like that. I  _ suppose _ if I had to, I  _ could _ do just that, but honestly, Tevinter already has a terrible reputation for misusing blood magic, I’m trying to be  _ responsible _ about it.” he lectured playfully. “But what the hell. If you’re lacking good company so, who am I to refuse?” 

 

Elis grinned roguishly, bending down, producing a bottle of wine from under the table, lofting a questioning brow. “Now that that’s settled, what say you to something stronger?” 

 

Crossing his arms, he cocked his head to the side, his hair shifting over his shoulder. “You were keeping that from me this whole time? For shame, Elis.” He eyed the label, shrugging. “I see you still have no palate for  _ good _ wine, but this will do.” 

 

He slid a full glass across the table to him, laughing quietly at the criticism. “Well I’m so sorry, Your Highness, I could not procure a satisfactory brew for your refined palate.” 

 

He took the teasing with a smile, his downturned gaze focused on the glass for a moment. Not the typical kind you’d receive in a back alley tavern, but the fine crystal expected of a family with such standing. Then again, the Bann had to entertain all manner of guests who couldn’t imagine drinking swill from anything less than the finest. The trip alone would take at least a week, and he gathered he’d have business to deal with on the way. Now was likely the only chance they’d have to catch up until after. 

 

“Why don’t you come to Qarinus sometime? It has the finest of everything. You could be sleeping in silk sheets, drinking the finest wines and champagnes your tongue has ever had the pleasure of tasting, and if you must have a woman, I’m sure I could find at least half a dozen willing to entertain even you.” he offered. 

 

“Well, that’s a tempting offer, perhaps once the Conclave has ended. I could use time away, more like Father would prefer I take time away so Ostwick can recover, but still.” He joked. 

 

“Then it’s settled. After this dreadfully boring meeting, you’ll be my guest. “ he said, raising his glass slightly. 

 

“How is Magister Pavus these days, do you see him much?” he wondered. 

 

“Please, common relatives aside, I’d rather not discuss family more than necessary. Drama should be the last thing we need right now.” he sighed, rolling his eyes. “What of that girl you were supposed to be wedding?” 

 

“Shara? I called it off the day she said I shouldn’t go out to ‘disreputable establishments’. Told father I’d rather die than marry a woman  _ that _ stuffy.”  he huffed, shaking his head as though he was still steamed about it. “What about you? Any special people in your life?” 

 

He waved a hand slowly, following it up with a shrug. “The magister has been gracious enough to fill in for my parents after what happened, but he knows better than to try and fix me up with anyone. We may be related, but he gets nothing from arranging a marriage for me. There’s nothing to gain. Besides, I enjoy my space, and the mansion is just barely enough for me.” 

 

“ _ Whatever. _ I’ve seen the mansion before, it’s at  _ least _ twice the size of this place. You could probably fit every mage in the Ostwick Circle in there comfortably.” he groaned. “Speaking of Circles, you might want to at least try to blend in at the Conclave. I trust you packed your robes?” 

“As if I’d wear something that gaudy. I brought something close enough. Had my tailor make adjustments. Why shouldn’t a mage look good while trying to outrun your Templars?” he scoffed. 

 

Elis palmed his face. He didn’t need to see the alterations to know he was going to stand out anyway. The man could not resist showing off, even when trying not to stick out at all was the obvious choice. Hopefully no one would think twice to question him too much, it would be bad enough that Tevinter had somehow  _ invaded _ the Conclave, let alone that he had been asked to come with someone who was  _ supposed _ to be there. At least it promised to be a little less boring with him along, it was always so long between the times they were able to see each other.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callias gets a rude awakening that comes complete with bad news.

Callias heard voices, felt the burning pain in his hand and the ache in his body. Maybe he was just suffering a massive hangover and fell out of bed. Wouldn’t be the first time that happened, It would also explain why he seemed to have a case of memory troubles. If he was in this shape, Elis must be doubled over, probably passed out with his pants around his ankles like last the last time they partied that hard, bottle still in hand. Opening his eyes, just a crack, any light was too much right now, even the dim light in… He was in shackles, in what could only be described as either the filthiest, emptiest brothel he had ever seen, courtesy of his more hormonally driven companion, or this was a dungeon. Already his impression of Ferelden could not be any worse, unless the rest of the country matched the muddy brown and similarly smelled like wet dog. The sharp smell assaulted his senses, delaying his notice of the woman approaching him. She was no soft-bodied maiden, but that didn’t necessarily make her unattractive. Her lips pursed like she was preparing to speak, but he beat her to it, a warm, but playful smile crossing his face. 

 

“Dear lady, I assume this is your doing. If so, I can assure you, there are much more pleasant ways to get my attention.” he joked, looking around for a moment. Elis was nowhere to be seen, just him that got locked up then? “If you could let me go and point me in the direction of my less refined cousin, I’ll be on my way presently.” 

 

She scowled fiercely at him, her eyes boring into his, though he couldn’t help but notice the way she tried to discreetly look him over. He looked down, his chest bared in the altered robes, his hood down, the outlines of his abdomen expertly displayed through the tight fabric, the rest loose, flowing and easy to move in, normally. Raising a brow, he grinned almost proudly at the attention she offered him, whether or not she realized it. 

 

“Well? Do you like what you see, or is there something on your mind?” he prompted. 

 

She groaned, and it was not a pleasured sound, it was disgust. Well,  _ that _ was a first. He had never before heard any woman make  _ that _ kind of sound. It was mildly intriguing, although he wasn’t sure how to feel about such an occurrence. 

 

“Tell me what you know, the Conclave has been destroyed, everyone who attended, including the Divine is dead, only you survived. How? Why?” she growled. 

 

His stomach dropped, a wave of cold that had nothing to do with the frigid breeze creeping through the room. If it was possible, he might have thought his blood had literally frozen in his veins, his heart pounding strongly in his chest.  _ Everyone?  _ He considered himself a relatively abiding Andrastian, but right now, the Divine meant nothing to him. It couldn’t be possible that Elis didn’t make it out alive. This was a dream, a horrid dream. He could imagine no obstacle the man couldn’t overcome, nothing strong enough to take him down. 

 

“Everyone you say? Tell me, did you find a man named Elis Trevelyan? I was with him when we came here, I need to know!” he asked, his voice trembling slightly as he asked. 

 

“I meant what I said. Only you made it out.” she repeated. 

 

His head dropped to his chest, his breath escaping like he had been punched in the gut. So it was true then, Elis was gone. As much as he claimed Bann Trevelyan was unconcerned where he was involved, he knew he wouldn’t take the news well, and who could? This feeling, this knot in his stomach, it was the same feeling he felt the day he found out his parents had been murdered. He wouldn’t cry, couldn’t, though he sorely wished he could, some outlet for the ball of grief sticking in his throat. 

 

“What do you want from me? I don’t remember what happened, I don’t have any answers for you.” he told her bluntly. 

 

“Cassandra, look at him carefully. I can’t imagine he’s guilty of this. The news is clearly just as shocking to him…” a second woman told her. 

 

“We shall see.” she sighed. 

 

Reaching to pull him to his feet, she gasped from the effort it took. For a mage, he was nothing like any she had seen before. Few worked on their bodies as much as their minds, yet he seemed to be a different case. She unlocked the shackles, not bothering to grab them as they clattered noisily to the floor. Cassandra expected resistance, yet there was none, he looked defeated, almost broken in that moment. She pulled him along, though she hadn’t bothered to cut away the ropes still securing his wrists together. 

 

“Where are we going?” he asked, his tone flat, almost uncaring despite questioning it. 

 

“I am taking you to the Breach. There was an explosion at the Conclave, it tore the sky. You fell from a rift, the only survivor, with that mark on your hand. If we do nothing, it will swallow the world, none will outrun it. With you, with that mark, we have a chance to stop this. It is only a small chance, but a chance nonetheless.” she explained. 

 

In this instant, he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned about the looming end of the world. Maybe it was for the best, and yet, the look on her face, almost pained and sorrowful...There was a layer of fear behind it, she was afraid. This strong, proud woman was hiding it well, but that idea was scaring the shit out of her, and she was asking for his help. Not demanding, no order, she wasn’t even hinting that he had to care. Only that she wanted him to make it right, whether she would voice it or not. When they left the limits of the small village, she turned, cutting the ropes finally. He could run away right now, but as she said, it would do no good, and let’s face it, Elis would have been sorely disappointed in him if he did nothing. 

 

“Very well. Let’s go, I’ll do what I can to help…” he said quietly. 

 

A breeze picked up, blowing through his hair, stinging his face. Ferelden was certainly not to his liking, he despised the cold. The fashion was worse than enduring it though, he couldn’t imagine wearing the ugly things they donned here. With that in mind, he held his hands close to himself, igniting a small flame between his palms for warmth. 

 

“So what happened anyway?” he wondered. 

 

“As I said. You fell out of a rift, and they say a woman was with you.” she stated. 

 

“Are you sure it wasn’t Elis? From the side, he looks a bit like a woman. Maybe it was…” he stopped, frowning. Of course it wasn’t him, that was wishful thinking. “Who was this woman?” 

 

“No one knows. You...really don’t remember what happened?” she asked. 

 

“I’d surely tell you if I did. I have no reason to keep it to myself, I just can’t recall. Last I can remember, I was in Ostwick, having the worst tea and wine I’ve ever tasted. I vaguely think I remember bits of the trip here, but that’s where it gets fuzzy.” he admitted with a frown. “By the way, will anyone else be joining us, or is this some sort of World’s End romantic outing?” 

 

“There are others, we should run into them soon.” she said in a way that was clearly shooting down that thought.

 

Callias was not genuinely expecting anything obscene. It was just amusing to tease someone so completely serious. Her wandering eyes betrayed her fury on the subject, possibly the worst interrogator ever. She was angry, sure, but somehow it wasn’t enough to stop her from looking. A lot of women, and even some men found themselves taken with his looks, that was nothing new, but it  _ was _ quite flattering. It was good to know that even with death a real possibility, he was still drawing a good kind of attention. One thing concerned him, though he said nothing on the matter. He had not bothered to bring a staff with him, preferring the inconspicuous nature of appearing unarmed to how wielding a staff was like a glaring sign that said ‘Hello, I’m a mage, please attack me.’ That aside, he had left his at home anyway, for the better, it was clearly Tevinter, from the quality of the materials used to make it, to the dragon carved into the side, the supposedly dragon fang attached to the end, useful for stabbing enemies who got too close, and the gilded dragon adorning the round jewel at the apex. No way he’d be caught dead with a staff like that in the South. How did she come to realize he was a mage? If anything, one might see the dagger and whip and assume he was some manner of hunter perhaps. Of course the fire made it obvious, but he had a feeling she had known before he had awoken. 

 

“Demons have been falling from the Breach and the smaller rifts. Take care, you are our only hope. I will not have you possessed.” she warned, pointing ahead as two fell from the sky at that moment. “Look there.” 

 

He chuckled at that, dispelling the flames he cradled. She practically  _ oozed _ chantry, and might very well change her mind if he began their journey with blood. Luckily he knew a fair amount of elemental magic, throw her off his scent for a little while anyway. “I don’t fear possession. Demons have nothing I want, and I desire nothing I can’t get on my own.”

 

“Many mages claim that. Don’t let your pride take you.” she said, unsheathing her sword as she charged in. 

 

“Your concern for my wellbeing is quite touching. I can’t prove such a claim, only to say that I am not going to let that happen. I mean it. Demons can offer me nothing I can’t already have.” he repeated calmly. 

 

As if to emphasize his point, he sent a flurry of spells towards the demon creeping in his direction. Even without a staff, he had to admit he was proud of just how accurate his aim was. He had to wonder exactly how heroic he looked, if at all, given that he was about to either fail spectacularly at his task, or save the world from destruction. 


	3. Herald

Nothing could have prepared him for the strange events that played out when he awoke. Certainly, he remembered the trip to see the Breach, the unusual elven mage, and the dwarf with the equally unusual crossbow, Bianca, that seemed to be its... _ her? _ Name. He expected it could never be as easy as ‘use this magical shit on your hand and close up the bloody hole in the sky that’s dropping demons and weirdness on everything’. Nothing was ever  _ that _ simple. Still, waking up with someone in his room was always enough to put him on edge. Rightly so, he had lost track of the number of times he had awoken to someone looming over him, with only moments to react so as not to go out like some bit part in a theatre performance. The girl dropped what she was holding, fell to her knees,  _ grovelled _ in front of him like he was the damned Empress. Said she was a servant, and wanted his forgiveness, his  _ blessing. _ Those were not the words anyone outside of Tevinter would ever use on him, even in Tevinter, he was unlikely to hear them. Something was wrong, very very wrong. The moment she excused herself, he rummaged through the room, trying to find his proper clothes, wondering briefly who had dressed him if he didn’t.

 

Once he had his more casual attire back on, he wandered out, witnessing immediately what it was that was wrong. People were lined up from the door all the way through the village, whispering amongst themselves. ‘Herald of Andraste’? These poor souls, they must have been confused, associating someone from Tevinter with Andraste. Flattering, sure, though he supposed if they had figured out where he was from, they might even cut their tongues off for even uttering such a thing. He made his way to the chantry where Cassandra was said to be waiting for him, for what, he couldn’t possibly imagine. If she had it in her head to throw him back in the dungeon for failing, or perhaps execution, it would have been so much easier to do so while he was sleeping...or was he unconscious? He barely got through the door, and already the sounds of arguments reached his ears, echoing loudly on the stone. He had no trouble figuring out which door to use, He didn’t bother knocking, that didn’t seem a very “Ferelden” thing to do, not that it was in Tevinter, either. 

 

“Cassandra, you’re looking...eh...well.” he said by way of greeting. Nodding once to the man, he grimaced. “Chancellor Roderick.” 

 

He vaguely remembered meeting him once before, and he still looked as friendly as a wild dog with mange. The man barely acknowledged his presence, save for reminding Cassandra that he had failed to close the Breach, and was, quite clearly, not dead. Callias pressed a shoulder against the wall, crossing one leg over the other, getting as comfortable as he likely would be able to. His thoughts skipped merrilly off without him, daydreaming, as it were. A nice fireplace and a bottle of wine, perhaps a good book, that would make for a better use of his time than standing here listening to adults bickering like children. He heard the sound of something heavy striking a solid surface, and part of him was secretly hoping it was a block of stone hitting the chancellor, but that was too much to ask for. The voices in the room melted away in favor of the soft sounds of music he could recall playing through his mind. He still had letters to write, had to get in contact with the Bann, and it probably wouldn’t hurt to write home. Actually, no, that probably would be mildly painful, it was unimaginable that anyone would be pleased to hear he was aiding Ferelden as the ‘Herald of Andraste’. How he managed to get caught up in this was beyond him. 

 

The woman nudged his shoulder, hard. It felt closer to a punch than a nudge, but she wasn’t exactly the daintiest of women, so it was understandable how she could fail to realize that. He snapped out of his thoughts, following her gesture across the table centered in the room, two of the three gathered there were familiar, the red haired woman, Leliana, he was tempted to believe her name was. Then there was the blonde man-beast they had encountered on the way to the Temple, though he couldn’t recall what his name was. Next to him was another woman, dressed in the kind of fineries a woman as lovely as her should be wearing. Cassandra helpfully identified the two as Cullen, and Josephine Montilyet. He smiled politely, nodding once, his arms folding in front of him, at a loss for what he was doing here. 

 

“Montilyet, is that…” he tried for a moment to place the accent when she greeted him. Not Rivain, and while she could easily blend in back home, that wasn’t it either. The dress screamed ‘Orlais’, but that was different too. “Antivan?” 

 

“Correct.” she said. 

 

Leliana was given the floor to explain where she felt would be the most promising place to begin. Begin what, he wasn’t very clear, but he was willing to entertain it, even if he wasn’t, the Breach wasn’t closed, and as such, was still a threat, so for now, he was at their mercy. That was more dramatic than it needed to be, so far, his neck was intact, he wasn’t in chains, and if he was being honest, he didn’t want to go home just yet. No, first he had to see for himself what it was really like. Back home, they told stories, but then, they told a lot of stories, and few had ever questioned how much of them was real. He had a chance to see it all for himself, and that was at least marginally more interesting than returning to the mansion and doing next to nothing of interest. Going into the Hinterlands, where mages and southern Templars were engaged in what sounded suspiciously like war, and much less like hurling insults and making faces at each other, to rescue a  _ southern chantry mother _ , did not particularly sound wise, nor good for his health, but then, with Cassandra promising to follow, it was surely better than making her angry. That was a woman he would do well to remain in whatever good graces she had, if any. 

 

Cal reached for the end of his braid, wrinkling his nose as he pulled what he hoped was straw, and not something truly awful from the ends. “Lead the way, Lady Seeker. May I assume we’ll be gathering up Solas and Varric as well, or are we going alone?” 

 

She crossed her arms defensively, frowning. “I will go round them up. “ 

 

He nodded, following her as far as the door before they parted ways for the time being. Cal headed for the gate to wait for the rest to catch up, kneading his brow with a heavy sigh. The day had barely begun and he already felt completely exhausted. Admittedly it was less physical and more mental, perhaps due to the lack of entertainment. He knew the reason, and yet, even knowing it was not enough to change that he didn’t want to put it to words, not again. The other part was pretty normal, the looks and stares that followed him everywhere. That everyone, men, women, those in between, he attracted attention anywhere he went, and it used to drive Elis crazy, his strong advances often completely ignored in favor of asking about him. He didn’t mind the attention, but it didn’t interest him, not usually. A woman approached him, holding out an apple to him, her cheeks very nearly as red. 

 

“For you, Herald!” she squeaked, pressing it into his hand before running off. 

 

“Look who has a fan already!” Varric said. 

 

Cassandra groaned, rolling her eyes. Clearly, there was some degree of frustration aimed either towards the dwarf, or at him, it was so hard to tell with her. He took a bite, his tongue swiping the juice across his lips, not missing what appeared to be glaring? Directed at him from the woman. 

 

“What? I don’t know her. It’s good though, and I  _ was _ getting hungry.” he said, shrugging. 

 

“Nothing...let’s just go.” she huffed. 

 

Callias hung back, letting her lead, glancing down to Varric. “Did I do something to offend her?” 

 

He shook his head, answering quietly. “That’s her idea of being friendly, I think.” 

 

“Well, that’s just confusing.” he sighed. 

 

“Maybe she likes you.” he said, half joking. 

 

“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. Still, I don’t believe it would kill her to smile. She always looks like she’s seconds from killing everything.” he murmured, biting back a chuckle. 

 

“I don’t know, I think it  _ might.  _ If Cassandra ever cracked even half a grin, she might drop dead on the spot.” he laughed. 

 

“I  _ can _ hear you, Varric.” she snorted. 

 

Varric covered his mouth, struggling not to laugh, pressing a single finger to his lips to indicate they should be quiet for a bit, lest they incur her great wrath in full. 


	4. Chapter 4

Cal was no slouch when it came to hard work, he didn’t crumble so easily just because he kept busy for a while. The Hinterlands, however, had been more than enough to leave him looking forward to turning in for the night. The small group had waded through plenty of combat, both mages and Templars, had found Mother Giselle and sent her on her way to Haven. Marched through the unforgiving terrain to hunt rams, find supplies, and track down the Horsemaster. They hunted wolves, rescued a druffalo, and set up watch towers, and seemingly a million other things. If he had any energy left, he couldn’t tell. When they made camp for the night, a chance to rest up before returning to Haven to plan another trip out to Val Royeaux, he eagerly went for the tent. Solas had decided to stay put for the night instead of wandering off, presumably because the elven man was exhausted himself. Usually appearing more than a little at ease in any given situation, his shoulders sagged, his face wearing a look that made him seem like he hadn’t slept in ages. He leaned on his staff for support, lowering himself to his bedroll with a sigh. 

 

Varric too, had very little to say, no clever jokes or overblown anecdotes. Callius wasn’t used to sharing quarters, but he could hardly be pressed to care, falling to his bed between the two like he had done it all his life. Bunching up, he buried his face in the thin, ragged pillow, groaning at the shocks of pain tearing through his muscles. Varric spared him a look, but said nothing, letting himself fall back, landing with a grunt. Glancing to Solas, the mage had already stretched out, eyes closed, seemingly asleep the moment his head hit the bed. The heavy clanking just outside said that the Seeker, on the other hand, was still up. Taking the guard. Admirable, to say the least, he knew from a single look that she was no more exhausted than any of them, and yet she still insisted on staying up to make sure they were safe. A better man would have pried himself from the relative comfort of the tent to go keep her company. He was not a better man, readily admitting that he couldn’t get back up if he wanted to, let alone to sit outside in the cold to make idle chatter with the woman. 

 

Thankfully she had warmed up just a little, less abrasive around him. He had learned a bit about her, supposedly Nevarran royalty, though she neither looked nor acted the part, in fact she hardly cared at all for it. He was equally grateful she hadn’t pried too much into his background. She had a pleasant smile, and he suspected if he had been forward with his life story in the same way she had been, she’d be all scowls again. No, a tenuous attempt to see eye to eye was better than the frost reception he anticipated. So far, the only topics he had deemed safe to share with her, or anyone were strictly about Elis, Ostwick and his surprising admittance to being Andrastian. His occupation may have been exactly the kind of thing the chantry frowned on, and warned others away from, but it didn’t change his beliefs. 

 

Solas too had proven to be more interesting than he had initially assumed him to be. His views on spirits and demons were a refreshing change from the normal ‘they’re all bad news, just don’t go there. At all.’ he was used to hearing, even back home. Sure, they said the same things, but that didn’t stop how often demons had played a regrettable part in daily life. It was fortunate for him, they claimed the only way to learn blood magic was to involve demons, and yet, it was not always so. For the most part, he had learned under the tutelage of his own father at a fairly young age, picking up the foundations of it from watching, learning and reading his notes. The rest, he had adapted over time. There was much that remained a mystery to those with no personal experience in the matter, the general idea was always that there were evil beings, sacrifices of slaves and children, among all the other horror stories. The reality seemed almost mundane by comparison, he always relied on his own blood to fuel his magic. The one truth he could admit to was that suffering always equated power. The greater the pain, the stronger the spell, and that was the secret to the whip he carried. It was the very picture of chantry punishment, flogged into submission, except it wasn’t. It  _ hurt _ , and while his threshold for pain was quite high, it still stung, and the scars on his back were the proof that he had no need to rely on torturing others to get what he needed. Solas had opinions on that too, admitting to a curiosity about it, but also voicing an unwillingness to learn. He claimed that it seemed to make entering the Fade more difficult, but that was not always the case either. Not just that it was difficult to enter, it wasn’t necessarily that, but the strength of the fade on entry. He didn’t argue the point, instead listening to his explanations, his tales with mild interest. 

 

Mostly he was reviewing his thoughts in an attempt to lull himself to sleep. It was Orlais that was keeping him from that which every fiber of his being craved desperately. He had very few opportunities to visit, every single one at the behest of his cousin, accompanying him on family business under the pretense of needing a buffer against threats, when really it was just that he didn’t want to go alone. This would be the first time he went without him, and admittedly, he didn’t fancy being called on the carpet by more frightened chantry women, but it was something that had to be done. He wasn’t afraid of what they might say or try to do, but rather annoyed. He didn’t want to deal with it, and if not for Cassandra’s insistence it  _ had _ to happen, he would simply have ignored it, agreeing with Cullen that they surely had more important things to do than to piss around with him. 

 

For all their threats and accusations, he already knew they weren’t prepared to act on attempting to execute him for the murder of the divine, they no longer had the power to do so. At the very least, perhaps it was yet another chance to expand the Inquisition’s influence as he had been advised to do, as a young and small power, it was critical that whoever could be swayed to the cause was. A move straight out of a Tevinter playbook, one he was quite familiar with. Heaving a sigh, he stretched out, turning onto his stomach. The pillow enveloped him in much needed darkness, and that was it, enough to put him out, as quickly and surely as a strong blow to the head. 


	5. Trouble

Cal took a seat on a crate, folding one leg over the other. Val Royeaux was now behind them, as was other business in the Storm Coast and the Hinterlands. Still no rest for a poor Herald, it seemed. He kept his eye on the tavern where this meeting was supposed to take place, but something wasn’t sitting right with him. This city hummed with something very familiar to him, but he couldn’t place it. Reaching to his side, he plucked a bottle from the ground, taking a drink. 

 

“This isn’t awful. For  _ Ferelden. _ ” Cal sighed. 

 

“You have the palate of a snooty noble.” Varric joked. 

 

“I had better. It’s in my blood, what would my mother say if she knew I was  _ settling _ for this swill. She’d roll in her grave.” he said. 

 

“You don’t seem keen on talking about your family. Where you lived before all this.” Cassandra observed suspiciously. 

 

“My parents are long dead, and I’ve no great desire to talk about my home. Elis was the only familiar thing I brought here, so there’s not much to say.” he said dismissively. “Shall we get this over with?” 

 

He left the half-full bottle on the ground, not troubled by the loss. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t anything special either. The group headed for the tavern with purpose, and it didn’t take long for Cal to dread the visit. Mages in the hands of Tevinter, Magister Alexius here in the South. Something strange was going on, and yet he wasn’t thinking behind the vain hope he’d keep his mouth shut where it counted. He liked not being the ‘Tevinter’ asshole everyone would assume if they knew. Liked the mystery of having people left wondering where he hailed from, what his past must be like and all that went with it. At the end of the thankfully short meeting, all that was left was the note the Magister’s son had skillfully slipped into his hand under the ruse of illness. Cal stared at the paper, trying to decide if the risk outweighed any possible reward, but it piqued his curiosity in just the right fashion to have him hooked. He  _ wanted _ to know what was waiting in the Chantry. His shapely lips curved up into a grin the likes he hadn’t shown anyone since before the Conclave. The silence was filled with the soft clinking of metal as he flexed his hand eagerly, like the anticipation alone had him unable to stay still. 

 

“Ten sovereigns says this is a trap.” Varric chimed as they reached the door. 

 

“It is  _ obviously _ a trap.” Solas said, indicating he wanted no part of that bet. 

 

“You are a fool to  _ walk _ in so willingly.” Cassandra grunted. 

 

“I’ll take your bet. If only because taking your coin will be quite satisfying.” he chuckled. 

 

Cal pushed the door open, striding in. His steps froze when he saw the rift inside, taking only a moment to remember he should deal with it. Except...the voice that called to him, the last one he honestly expected to hear, and the  _ worst _ possible person to show up at this particular moment. 

 

“Good. You’re here, now help me--” his words cut off abruptly. 

 

Cal turned his head away, buried in his hood in the hopes he wouldn’t notice. Too late, it seemed.

 

“Callias?” he asked, not stopping the conversation while he fought. 

 

“A vana, Dorian.” He sighed. 

 

“ _ Tevinter... _ I should have guessed.” Cassandra hissed. 

 

“Surprise. I’m a _ ‘Vint’ _ .” he muttered. 

 

“Then this is…” Varric wondered. 

 

“My cousin. Second? Second cousin.” he tried to explain. 

 

“Yes, Second..” Dorian agreed, staring at his hands for a moment. “Among other things.” 

 

“Yes. Small world, this.” Cal said, glaring openly at him, to stop him before he got started. “Isn’t that  _ right _ ?”

 

“The rift. You can close it now.” Solas noted. 

 

Cal raised his hand, thankful for the interruption. He waited for the rift to close before letting his hand fall to his side again. Dorian appraised him silently, his gaze falling to the whip on his side, the semi-suggestive look he had been giving him replaced with a thin-lipped, almost cold regard. He swayed dramatically for a few moments before he discreetly made his way to his side, leaning in to speak privately. 

 

“Still at it then?” he asked. 

 

“Still at it. I’m nothing like the others, and I never will be. I thought you knew that by now.” he replied stoically. 

 

“You can say that all you like. Doesn’t change the way I feel about it.” Dorian hissed under his breath. 

 

Cal turned slightly, gripping his arm to keep him close, both forcing smiles and looking as inconspicuous as possible when Cassandra looked over. They waited until she looked away to resume their hushed conversation. 

 

“Yes, I get it. You know I love Tevinter just as much as you do. I want to make it better, but I can’t change what I know. I can’t just forget it now.” he lowered his voice a little more. “They don’t even know what I...they don’t know.”

 

“Frankly, I’m surprised you held back. The old Callias didn’t care who knew.” he said. 

 

“That Cal is dead. Callias Marinus died with his father. I was a hothead back then. I wanted change overnight, and I  _ wanted _ people to know what I could do. I had hoped it would make a difference. I was wrong.” he sighed, gauntleted hand pressed firmly against his brow. “Dorian... Elis is dead. I’m stuck here. I  _ need _ you.” 

 

“One condition. You help the mages. You know something isn’t right. You know we’re involved somehow.  _ Make it right. _ Do that, and I’ll leave when you do. I’ll follow you anywhere you say.” he sighed. 

 

Cal looked over his companions, scattered around the Chantry in an attempt to give them some amount of privacy. It was natural to want to side with the mages, for many reasons. Though to say he hadn’t at least briefly considered siding with the Templars would have been a lie. There were advantages to them, to counter how threatening they were. 

 

“Fine. Let’s keep this under wraps for now. I’d rather not have to listen to complaints on the way back about my choice.” he relented. 

 

“Good. Let’s get going then, the further we get from here, the better.” Dorian grumbled. 

 

Without another word, Cal spun on his heel, waving the others to follow. Leliana would be pleased, she seemed to want him to help the mages. Cullen on the other hand, that wasn’t going to sit well with him. Then again, it wouldn’t take long for it to get around where he was from. Wouldn’t be surprised if suspicion once more fell on him. That was just the way of things, Tevinter wasn’t known for tea time and polite conversation, and having that one label was enough to make just about anyone wonder. 

 

“Would it make a difference if I said I was sorry, Cassandra?” he called back then. 

 

“Not in the least.” she growled. 

 

“Worth a shot...I  _ am _ sorry. I wouldn’t have hidden the truth if I didn’t think I’d be judged unfairly without proof. Tell me it wouldn’t have made you think less of me.” he sighed. 

 

“I…” she fell silent for a moment. “You are right. I  _ would _ have believed you guilty, regardless.” 


	6. Chapter 6

“So you’re really from Tevinter?” Varric asked. 

 

“Yes, born and raised in Qarinus, is that really so hard to believe?” Cal asked with a laugh. 

 

“Actually, yeah, I guess that makes sense. You have that attitude about you.” he admitted. “My cousin was married to a Tevinter magister. I hear he was assassinated.” 

 

“Maevaris Tilani, yes, I know her. Quite a lovely person if I do say so myself.” he said. 

 

“Looks like the Seeker has found us.” Varric sighed. “She looks angrier than usual.” 

 

“I’m not really surprised, she hasn’t spoken to me at all in a week. Not even to tell me what’s going on, she keeps sending people to hunt me down. Maybe Leliana finally told her to grow up.” Cal shrugged. “Let me ask you, Varric. Do you believe I’m here to help or hurt?” 

 

Varric leaned back in his seat, staring at him like the answer was right on his forehead, just out of view. “I can’t say what you’re here for. All I can say is you haven’t wronged me personally, and I’m not the type to hate someone based on where they’re from. I’ve never seen anyone look quite as crushed as you did when I first saw you. Cassandra got to you that badly, huh?” 

 

“No. My cousin Elis died at the Conclave. He asked me to come with him, he said he wanted me watching his back, but I think he just missed my company. I should have known better. I should have told him to skip it, maybe pushed a little harder to just go back to my home and we’d find something better to do.” Cal said with a sigh. 

 

“So if that mage is your cousin, and Elis was your cousin, did they know each other well?” Varric had to ask. 

 

Human families always sounded a little bit strange compared to dwarves. He had a gigantic family too, but the way humans chronicled their ancestors was always amusing in a way. 

 

“Yes, Elis and Dorian and I spent most of our summers together. Elis was meant to get married, Dorian too, but my parents died, so I escaped the hangman’s noose.” he laughed darkly. 

 

“No little lady in your life then?” Varric asked. 

 

“Maker forbid. No. I don’t mind the idea of women, I just haven’t met anyone I’d ever want to marry. There was a man for a time, but he and I have...had plenty of problems in recent years.” Cal shrugged. 

 

Cassandra slowly made her way over to the table, cursing under her breath the whole way. Her hand gripped his shoulder like she wanted it to hurt, but it didn’t. Cal stood up and turned around, smiling pleasantly. 

 

“I wondered when you’d work up the courage to come over.” he teased. 

 

“I wasn’t  _ afraid _ . I just didn’t want to talk.” she grunted. 

 

“Well, in that case it would hardly do for me to force you to, so I’ll have to impose one last time to ask what you needed.” he said.

Cassandra’s features softened for just a moment, reminding herself he was the  _ enemy _ , not someone she could ever trust.

 

“Josephine wanted to speak with you. She asked me to tell you.” she told him. 

 

Letting go of his shoulder, she circled her heel, walking out briskly. If he had an eternity, he would never understand why she was such an abrasive thing. He’d never met a woman that wasn’t soft and almost sickly sweet. Oh, it was largely a way to grab at power, certainly, but clearly it wasn’t the same here after all. If only every woman could be as easy on the eyes as Leliana and as charming as Josephine, he might actually take more interest. Cal had a fair guess she just wanted to hear what his thoughts were on the subject of mages or Templars. He hadn’t  _ been _ thinking about it, that was most of the reason Dorian had agreed to come with. The other small part was that even when they weren’t talking to each other, neither could really resist the other, and factored into the decision a little bit, he knew that much. He shouldn’t have to share everything with these people, and that he’d made his choice before he even took one step out of the Chantry. 

 

Besides, later on down the line, the stories would just say the Inquisition let itself be led by a Tevinter mage who himself was being unduly influenced by another Tevinter mage. He shouldn’t make it known he was doing something that could have been seen in a poor way. That hadn’t actually stopped them from carrying on where they left off, in private of course. Dorian always had better ideas on where to go, and that skill followed him here, he found a place right outside where people didn’t go. 

 

“Leaving already?” Varric asked. 

 

“I’ve always been told it’s rude to keep a lady waiting.” He said proudly. 

 

“I enjoy the hidden implications there.” Varric said, nodding to where Cassandra had been moments before. “Get going then.” 

 

Cal made his way to the chantry in a polite hurry. He found her at the end of the hall, leaned over her writing even then. It seemed like she barely noticed his presence until she caught a glimpse at him out of the corner of her eye, quickly dropping her quill. She folded her hands together and gave a weary smile, quickly calling her helper over. 

 

“If you’d be a dear, could you fetch us something to drink?” she asked pleasantly. 

 

“Yes, of course my lady.” she replied. 

 

When the woman left, Josephine took note of him once more. “I apologize for my manners, I should have greeted you upon entering.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it, my lady, not many do.” he laughed. 

 

“Yes, I’m afraid Cassandra came to us first, and we advised her to keep it under wraps. She can be quite impulsive, and perhaps someone else overheard. If people have been less than kind to you, please let me know and I’ll see what can be done to lessen it.” she sighed. 

 

“There’s no cause for that. Most have been a little bit more than kind, I keep finding little notes and gifts in my room…” He admitted. 

 

It wouldn’t be so bad if they’d at least leave them somewhere else, but in his room? That worried him at the best of times. He didn’t like people in his room, it meant they had gotten close enough to kill without his notice. The real blessing seemed to be that they were just some sort of shy admirers and not would-be assassins.

 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I would absolutely understand the suspicion and anger. I’d imagine I must seem less a savior and more a monster now that my birthplace is on the table. Still, I’m surprised to find most are still quite pleasant.” he shrugged. 

 

Josephine smiled at that. “I am pleased to hear it. I do not mean to be indelicate in the least, but it would seem your...attractiveness has won them over more than anything, according to Leliana’s reports. Many of the women, and even a portion of the men find you quite handsome.” 

 

“This is nothing new, I assure you. Dorian used to get himself out of trouble quite often by pushing me in the way of whoever was mad at him at the time. Mostly his mother. Though I do wish they’d at least try to believe I mean no harm, I suppose that’s a long way off. I’m glad for whatever I can get, and if my face is the reason, then...it has to do.” he said.

 

Accepting the drink the woman offered on her return. She hid behind the now cleared serving tray, a full blush on her face, quickly heading for the door. It really couldn’t hurt to try and endear himself to whoever he could, maybe showing he was well liked would be enough to get Cassandra to at least look at him without making those disgusted sounds. Cal snagged the crook of her elbow, gently luring her back, reaching for her hand. He bent, planting a gentle kiss to her knuckles. 

 

“Thank you.” he said. Her blush rose to her ears, and she squeaked faintly, nodding in place of words. “May I ask your name, at least?”

 

“Jeanette, my lord Herald.” she mumbled. 

 

“Such formality. I insist, call me Cal, don’t you think Herald is a bit too much?” he asked. 

 

“Yes my lo-...Cal.” she managed. 

 

“Nice catch. Now, I imagine you must still have plenty of work to see to, don’t let me keep you.” he said. 

 

Bowing again, she rushed out, the door closing behind her. It wasn’t more than a minute later that it sounded like she stopped someone to gush over the exchange. Josephine seemed a little surprised to say the least. 

 

“You said yourself word gets around. It would seem I have the power to change that word. A little charm is easy enough to manage. With luck, the people of Haven will warm to me quickly. Orlais is not the only country that enjoys their little dances. If anything, Tevinter is the master of it, and I am no exception.” he said. 

 

“You certainly are...confident.” she said. 

“Indeed I am. Yet, I imagine asking how I’m being treated was not the only reason you called for me.” he told her. 

 

“Ah, right. Forgive me, it would seem I am more distracted than usual. I meant to inquire as to your progress on reaching a decision.” she said. 

 

“Ahh, I figured it was that. I have made no solid choices yet, both avenues look quite promising, and my meeting with the mages held my interest. I have very little to go on as far as your Templars. Perhaps some more information as to where they went or what might persuade them will help me weigh my options.” He lied. 

 

It wasn’t particularly something he was proud of, but in a pinch, even he could be more than a little manipulative and to add, a fairly decent liar if it was needed. He preferred to be the exception rather than the rule, and as such he tried very hard to be a model citizen in the best sense, not the one people assumed automatically. He really didn’t even like children, so sacrificing one was definitely out of the question. He had never personally owned slaves, and truthfully, he rather liked the few elves he’d had a chance to interact with, so that wasn’t an option either. For one reason or another, he had a rather convenient list compiled in his mind as to why he was unlike most from his country. Dorian would absolutely agree if not for the blood magic. Had he not bothered to learn, he might well seem the picture of perfection as a Tevinter emissary, but it wasn’t to be. Thankfully the small scuffles they’d been involved in were not nearly enough to concern him to the point of uncovering his truest capablities. Cassandra would definitely want him dead for that, a woman of faith as she was. 

 

“Of course, I’d be happy to see what we can find on the matter, and if it’s no trouble, I will have someone deliver the reports to you later.” She told him. 

 

“That’s quite fine with me. If you’ll excuse me, I feel like taking a walk, I’ll think on the matter a little more seriously, I’d like to not keep anyone waiting longer than needed.” he said with a bow. 

 

“Ah...yes, I suppose I do have work to return to.” Josephine sighed. “I should thank you for speaking with me.” 

 

“No, I require no thanks for something that comes so naturally.” he said, closing the door quietly on his way out. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have something suggestive.

Cal sat on the edge of his bed, crossing a leg over the other. As Josephine had indicated, someone had dropped by with several pages on what they knew about the Templars. He’d already made his decision, it was true, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t even a little curious. If nothing else, it was something to read. The door opened, closing quickly behind Dorian as he sauntered in. 

 

“Bit early in the day for that look, wouldn’t you say?” Cal asked teasingly. 

 

“Would you actually complain?” he challenged. 

 

“Ooh, you have me there.” Cal said, patting the bed next to him. “I don’t bite.” 

 

Dorian took a seat, shrugging to himself. “That’s a lie and you know it.” 

 

Cal laid the pages on the bedside table. “Yet if I’m not mistaken, you like that. Almost as much as I do.” 

 

Dorian rolled his eyes, his hand gripping a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back. It was hard, but not enough to hurt. He bit the curve of his shoulder, smirking when he jumped, digging his nails into the sheets with a frustrated moan. He let up quickly enough, he’d only intended to tease, just a bit, enough to put the suggestion of plans for later.

 

“That’s hardly fair. You know I have to at least look busy…” Cal huffed. 

 

Dorian glanced to the papers, frowning a little bit. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you? You’re not seriously considering going after the Templars after you said you wouldn’t…” 

 

Cal didn’t miss the disappointment laced in his tone. He moved quickly, rolling to pin him underneath him, his hips pressed to his tightly enough to keep him down. Slipping his fingers between his, he closed the gap, biting his lips, kissing him hungrily, letting up long enough to give him an answer before returning to him. 

 

“I haven’t. I had to make it look good, I wasn’t going to march in after I’d only just brought you back and suddenly I’m absolutely going after the mages without making any inquiries at least.” he sighed. 

 

It surprised him a little to be stopped again, his expression completely serious. “That’s the right answer. How do I know you’re not just saying that to shut me up?” he asked. 

 

Cal shrugged at the refusal, going for his neck, his teeth scraping roughly, but not enough to mark him up. He did that too, but always in places that wouldn’t be visible, but it wasn’t a recent thing, they’d been sneaking around like this for quite a bit longer than was probably wise, both clever enough to realize they couldn’t quite be so obvious about it. Dorian squeezed his hands, panting quietly, his eyes squeezing shut. They had that in common, the quickest way to provoke a response was to go for the neck, admittedly Dorian knew the easiest ways to make him melt, every one of them, whereas he was still trying to figure his out. 

 

“Because you know as well as I do that if I really wanted you to shut up, I’d come up with a more pleasurable way to go about it.” He whispered. 

 

Dorian shook his head with a sigh. “Not yet. As much as I’d love to hear more about how you intend to do that, this isn’t exactly the best time to start something. Just couldn’t resist calling attention to yourself, could you,  _ Herald _ .” 

 

It was said with a teasing sort of affection, but he was completely right. Any number of people could drop by to bother him, and not everyone felt the need to knock. It had to be a Ferelden thing, he couldn’t imagine anyone that wasn’t trying to rob you blind or murder you that wouldn’t knock, but that much, that was a Tevinter staple. 

 

“You could have reminded me before you got me this bothered.” Cal groaned indignantly.

 

“Oh, but there’s hardly any fun in that.” he said. “If only I were a little more cruel. Ah, can you imagine someone walking in on you like  _ that? _ ” 

 

“I can, and I don’t like it.” Cal muttered. 

 

He let him up, sitting back up. Sweeping his hair back into place, Dorian could see the muscles in his jaw tensing irritably, squeezing himself in an effort to try and completely kill the mood. He sat behind him, and he didn’t have to look to know he had that all too pleased with himself smirk on his face. Reaching for a metal tray, he tried to make himself as presentable as possible, setting it back down when he was sure he was in the clear. Not a moment too soon either, the door burst open, and Cassandra practically stomped in. Without warning, she took a seat in the only actual chair in the room, an oversight perhaps, but aside from Dorian, who was perfectly content to share a bed with him in most contexts, he really didn’t get much for company.

 

“Ah, now this  _ is _ a surprise. To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your company?” he said. 

 

He cocked his head curiously, not failing to miss the very faint blush rising to her cheeks as she stared at him. Apparently it didn’t matter how upset she was, even she wasn’t immune to a pretty face. He leaned back just a bit, running his hands through his hair, watching the way her eyes flickered to his arms for just a moment. Oh yes, not many mages found a use for keeping their bodies as sharp as their minds, but from the stories alone, the South was always quite different from home. At home, someone out of shape was an easy target, it wasn’t going to save your life to have to stop and catch your breath. There were, of course, less sinister motivations for maintaining his physique, reasons he would consider more in a few hours.

 

“I...was...perhaps mistaken about your...motivations.” she struggled, a look of pure distaste on her face. “I’ve seen you trying to help. I can’t say for sure that you’re  _ not _ here to cause problems, but...I acknowledge it’s  _ possible _ you’re innocent, as you claim to be.” 

 

Cal grinned at that. “Well, well. I’m absolutely flattered that you’d come here in person to tell me. Thank you, Cassandra.” 

 

It was truly impressive, how even her attempts to make amends were so aggressive and almost threatening. She was a very different kind of woman, whether that difference was a good thing or not was still up for debate, it wasn’t as though he truly knew enough about her to make that decision. 

 

“Do not thank me yet. This doesn’t mean I’m going to take my eyes off you. I don’t trust you, I only said I might have been mistaken.” she said. 

 

“By all means, watch me all you like.” he said seriously. “Of course, I do hope you find some time to appreciate what you see.” 

 

Her face reddened noticeably this time, and Dorian had a hard time not laughing audibly at that. Seeing the amused look on his face, she stood up, eyeing the door like she wanted to run away. 

 

“I’ve said what I came to. You should get back to work.” she huffed, nearly slamming the door on the way out.

 

“She’s a bit uptight, don’t you think?” Dorian asked.

 

“A bit?” he laughed. “It’s a wonder she isn’t going grey.” 

 

“I think if you were anyone else, she might have actually tried to jump you.” Dorian shrugged.

 

“She wouldn’t be the first I’ve gotten that impression from, she won’t be the last.” Cal sighed, like it actually bothered him. 

 

“You love it, I know some part of you absolutely eats up the attention.” Dorian said knowingly. 

 

“As if you’re any different. I still think you half expect glitter and fireworks and a standing ovation whenever you walk into a room.” Cal laughed. 

 

“I’m always  _ so crushed _ when it doesn’t happen.” he said sarcastically. 

 

“Well, will it make you feel any better if I promise to clap for you later?” Cal asked. 

 

“Not at all, unless it’s with far less clothing and a lot more noise.” he said with a shrug.

 

Cal drew him in for another quick kiss, his hand sneaking lower to grip his ass. “I think that can be arranged, but what do  _ I _ get in return.” 

 

Dorian slid his hands in his hair again, tugging firmly. “I’ll keep telling you just how ravishing you look, and how irresistible you are face down on a bed.”

 

“If you were anyone else, I’d be a little bit hurt by that. Just a little.” Cal said. 

 

“It’s not my fault you can’t be quiet.” Dorian said with a shrug. “If you could, I’d get to enjoy watching you more often. Imagine the scandal, ‘Herald of Andraste caught with his pants down.’ Literally. I could come up with something a little more clever, but we aren’t exactly back home, I have no idea if the headlines here are even a little humorous. A shame, truly.” 

 

“They’re really not…” Cal said. “I find them too direct and bland. I suppose I really should at least read through the rest of this, then what do you say we head for the war room and I’ll let them know we’re taking the mages. It’ll sound much better if you tell them what you know of the situation. I shouldn’t exactly let them in on how much I’ve been apprised of…” 

 

“Well, that does sound like a complete and utter mood killer. It’s something to do to pass the time, anyway.” Dorian said, his way of agreeing. 

 

Cal yawned uncontrollably as he reached for the papers again. “Do they even realize how boring these sound? I swear I’ve barely made it through any of it and I feel like I could sleep for a week.” 

 

“Save them then. Might come in handy if you ever find it hard to fall asleep.” Dorian suggested. 

 

“That’s not a terrible idea. I can’t exactly remember the last time I slept without issue.” He admitted. 

 

“Yes, Maker forbid someone try to assassinate you with fruit and letters from secret admirers.” Dorian said jokingly. “In all seriousness, I’m sure it’s fine. As you’ve pointed out, this isn’t exactly home, I doubt you’re in any danger. Between all those soldiers hanging about at all hours, and your commander’s constant prowling, I’m certain anyone that let it cross their mind to try wouldn’t have much of a chance. I’m not far away either, and then of course if it really came to it, I know you’d just wake up and deal with it on your own.” 

 

“I’d just like to know if there’s ever going to be a time when I can stop looking over my shoulder…” he muttered. 

 

“People like us, we don’t get that. You know that. Someone is always going to be out for the kill if not for something we’ve done then someone we know or someone in our line. It’s how it is, and I know if it really bothered you, you’d have left ages ago.” Dorian said. 

 

“You have a point.” Cal admitted. 

 

Home was home, no matter how bad it got, and it wasn’t like there was any place to really welcome them even if they decided not to stick around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's probably going to be some smut before leaving Haven at least.


	8. Chapter 8

Dorian draped Cal across his lap, running his fingers through his hair. He kissed his brow lightly, lost in the emerald tones of his eyes. It wasn’t until he noticed they’d lost some of their shine that he finally realized the stresses were getting to him anyway. Perhaps that explained away part of his increased drive of late. The rest could easily be said to be he was very familiar, that even though he knew he was still very disappointed in him, he hadn’t stopped caring, couldn’t imagine not caring for him. Life was never all roses and rainbows for either of them, but admittedly Cal had it a little bit better. 

 

“What’s on your mind, talk to me…” Dorian asked, nipping his ear.

 

“You don’t need to do that. I’m okay, I promise.” Cal said. 

 

His hands wandered, tracing circles on his chest, down his stomach. He pulled his hair firmly, enough to make him groan, his head tipping back for him. He bit his neck lightly, from one side to the other, taking his time. He was lying, others might struggle to figure out how to tell such a thing, but that was just a quirk of growing up together, there was no hiding anything from each other. Others may well find it difficult to see the little signs, but he might well be a book with every thought and feeling written very plainly to him. 

 

“I won’t push you. If you change your mind, I’ll never be very far.” he murmured against his neck. 

 

“I know.” Cal said. He wasn’t much for talking, for getting emotional without reason. “You were always there for me. I think that’s why we got so close, don’t you?” 

 

“I remember the first time we went this far. You were such an awkward thing.” Dorian laughed. 

 

“Me? What about you. I think you headbutted me the first time you kissed me.” Cal said. “We couldn’t quite get any of it right, could we? I had trouble explaining why I walked so strangely for a few days after. No preparation, no warning, no clue what you were doing.” 

 

“I admit it, I was a little over enthusiastic, and obviously I had no idea what I was doing.” Dorian agreed. His lips wandered down his chest slowly, finding it a challenge not to tease him about the way he’d barely done anything and already he had his hips rocking, trying to find friction that just wasn’t there. “I’ve gotten a lot better, if I can judge by your reactions.  _ I _ wanted to take my time with you, really remind you what you had been missing out on, but you, in your infinite wisdom, didn’t want to wait. It’s a wonder your spymaster didn’t see right through you.” 

 

As it was, Cal never had a need for the foreplay most times, and opted out of it. His reasoning was pretty solid, if he wasted time getting him off, he wasn’t going to be too terribly interested in the best part, and it wasn’t like he really needed it, they’d been at it quite a bit already, not like it had been years since the last time, it wasn’t like it would actually hurt much. He left the itinerary completely up to Dorian, not that he’d ever give him much choice in that matter, he was in control, and honestly that was just fine with him. 

 

“Who says she didn’t and just decided not to say anything?” Cal suggested. 

 

Dorian let go, gently pouring him off his lap to the bed, waiting for him to turn over. As much as he liked seeing his face, it wasn’t a lie to say he was a bit too loud to be discreet out here. If they were alone, he wouldn’t particularly care about that, but the last thing he needed was to be caught in bed with not only another man but one he was related to, however distantly. Technically, outside Tevinter, to his understanding they could even conceivably marry, so it wasn’t as though anyone might think to say too much about it, but as Herald of Andraste, there was a sort of understanding that his reputation should be as clean as possible, a hard enough task for someone they might view as innately sinful anyway. Cal glanced over his shoulder at him, his arms crossed underneath him, resting on his knees. 

 

“I can’t tell if you’re distracted or you’re trying to tease me on purpose now.” he said. 

 

Dorian sighed, dropping a small jar back down to the pile of clothes. Most of his body was quite smooth and unmarred, but it was his back that always bothered him, the thing he saw the most lately. On the one hand, he supposed it was admirable that he didn’t resort to the typical means most blood mages turned to, he didn’t hurt others to propagate his power, instead, he used himself. He hated that whip, it left its marks and implications all over him, his back marked with raised scars. It was hardly just that he used that kind of magic to begin with, so much as he hated the toll he allowed it to take on his body, the pain he purposely inflicted on himself. He ran his fingers down his back from his shoulders to his hips, lingering on the ridges and valleys for a time before he gripped him firmly, his right hand going back up, stopping on the back of his head. 

 

“A little of both.” he admitted. 

 

He pushed his head down into the pillows, Cal always did like it a little on the rougher side, and that suited him just fine. He took his time anyway, if only because he occasionally made the most comical impatient little remarks. This time, he kept his silence, rocking side to side as if to try and hurry him up instead. Dorian dug his blunt nails into his hip just a bit, enough to sting, to provoke a reaction, and he got one. He groaned into the pillow, yanking the sheets, biting his lip when he lifted his head, glancing back at him. Dorian shook his head, pushing him back down. 

 

“None of that now, I don’t think you want to wake everyone up.” he teased. 

 

“I’m not  _ that _ loud, and we’re on the outskirts anyway.” he complained, his words almost completely muffled in the pillows. “Now stop holding back.” 

 

“Maybe I _want_ to. It’s more fun to drive you crazy.” he said. 

 

He didn’t want to have to try and decipher his muffles, nor did he want to give him the chance to consider a response. Not like he’d be patient enough to take much more of it anyway, his hand already slowly creeping lower. Dorian let go of his hair, bringing his hand to his hip, moving him how he needed it, but also to try and save him a bit of pain. He was prone to a certain degree of eagerness, and while he didn’t particularly mind, he also didn’t want to run the risk of him getting hurt in ways he didn’t intend. It was just starting to get good when they heard a sound in the distance. Looks like the guards were bringing their patrols too close to be anything but comforting. He rolled his eyes, patting his hip slowly. Slowly pulling away, he sat on the edge of the bed with a frustrated sigh. Maybe this was some sort of payback for earlier, probably some kind of karma. Cal didn’t seem to approve of it either, immediately going for his clothes. He wouldn’t blame him for it of course, by far it wasn’t the first time they’d had to stop like this. No, that was many years ago, and they’d barely managed to get dressed and occupy themselves with something less conspicuous before his father walked in. 

 

Dorian finished dressing, leaning against the opposite wall. There was a knock on the door, and a guard peered in to check. 

“Is someone in here?” he asked curiously.

 

“Yes, I apologize, I came here to clear my head. I’ll leave soon enough.” Cal replied. 

 

“Herald! Oh...I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I just wanted to make sure nothing was amiss. Take your time.” He said.

 

Dorian sighed when he left, sitting back down. He pulled him to his chest, kissing across his jaw before landing on his lips. The mood might be dead, but that didn’t mean he didn’t still enjoy giving him the attention he deserved. 

 

“So...how are you doing?” he asked. 

 

“I’m a bit disappointed, obviously.” Cal said. “I’m not upset with you, just that it’s beginning to feel like the world is trying to make sure I don’t have any fun at all.” 

 

“That wasn’t precisely what I meant, but I understand that.” Dorian agreed. 

 

“Please tell me you’re not trying to make me admit this is shittier than it should be? I’m not dead, I should be pleased with that much and not ask for more.” Cal muttered. 

 

“You look like someone crushed you with the weight of the world and you didn’t exactly enjoy it.” Dorian said seriously. 

 

“Hasn’t it? I came here as a favor to Elis, and he’s dead. They thought I killed the Divine and hundreds, maybe thousands of others. I woke up in shackles, and an entire village staring at me like they just _knew_ I was guilty, I had to write the letter telling Bann Trevelyan his son was dead, and then, suddenly, they think I _didn’t_ do it and I’ve been sent by Andraste to fix the world, and the chantry still thinks I’m a monster. What exactly should I be doing? Jumping for joy? Should I be celebrating the fact that half of Thedas probably hates me and wants me dead, and the other half think I’m some kind of prophet or something?” He ranted, though the expression he wore said he didn’t want to admit to any of that.

 

Dorian knew he wouldn’t like the gesture, he wasn’t one for feeling like he was being pitied. He gave him a light squeeze, rubbing his side slowly. 

 

“I knew you were stressed, but I didn’t know it was like that. I suppose it’s worse that you haven’t had time to really mourn his death. I can’t fix the rest of it, I can only say that I’m here for you, as always, and I have no plans to abandon you.” he murmured. 

 

“I’m not telling you anything else.” Cal said flatly. It was another attempt to get him to open up and he wasn’t one to bare his feelings and thoughts so openly, he wasn’t planning to start now. “I suppose I should head back, we have a busy day tomorrow. Get some rest.” 

 

“When we return, I’ll take care of you properly.” Dorian said. 

 

“You’d better. I deserve something for all this trouble anyway.” Cal sighed. “I think I’d almost kill for one of those really nice body massages. I’m tense all over.” 

“That can be arranged. No killing needed.” Dorian chuckled. “Although I wouldn’t exactly say no if everyone’s favorite little writer could get her hands on a bottle of something better than the swill here.” 

 

Cal swept his tongue across his lips with a quiet sigh. Josephine was far from unpleasant. If anyone could find a way to make that happen, it would be her. 

 

“I’ll sit down with her when I have the time.” he said. “Assuming Alexius doesn’t succeed where others have failed and manage to take me down finally.”

 

“Now you’re just being dramatic.” Dorian laughed. “Get to bed, no one will take you seriously if you go to a big meeting like this with bags under your eyes.” 

 

“That’s so rude. I never look less than amazing. Even with eyebags.” Cal said. 

 

He slid off his lap anyway, reaching for his hands, pulling him to stand. Tomorrow was a big day, and it would hardly be said that he kept people waiting. 


	9. Chapter 9

The return from Redcliffe was a tense one. It wasn’t all the fighting or finding himself pushed into a future that was beyond his imagination. When they arrived back in Haven, Josephine had already managed to secure a decent enough wine, and after offering her a slightly over the top and mostly forced display of appreciation, he retreated with it, heading to the outskirts. Oh, he was angry, of course he was. There was still no sense in wasting it, or more depressingly, drinking alone. 

 

“You’re still upset, aren’t you?” he asks tensely, producing two glasses from seemingly nowhere. “Because if you aren’t, you might tell the rest of your face that.” 

 

“Very  _ funny _ , Dorian. Such a sharp wit, a quick tongue. Yes, I’m  _ angry _ . I feel like I have a right to be.” Cal said. “I didn’t even know you were working with him at all, not until the Chantry, but you never bothered to tell me that it might conceivably erase one or both of us from existence. A little  _ fucking _ heads up would have been helpful.” 

 

“I tried to tell you, when I worked with him before, it was nowhere near being useable. It was all theoretical, I  _ would _ have warned you if I knew. Isn’t it enough that I managed to stop him from making it so you never existed? Do you really think I could have lived with myself if I had failed in that much?” he argues. 

 

They both fell silent for a time, seething quietly over goblets of wine. Maybe it wasn’t even him he was upset with but the fact that someone could do something so stupid so easily. It didn’t matter who the Elder One was, he hoped he choked to death on a pile of druffalo shit. Always _fucking_ _mages_. It didn’t matter in that moment that he was also one, he included himself in that pile. You never catch normal people screwing things up quite this effectively. No, you wanted shit ruined, you turn to a mage. He doubted even if he had no magic he’d have made a good Templar either. He believed well enough on his own without being surrounded by it, without having to choke down lyrium to be of much use anyway, and being honest, the first good looking mage that smiled at him might well have broke his willingness to obey the rules. 

 

He was still angry, but that did nothing to stop him from remembering they had a standing appointment. There was nothing quite like angry sex, it seemed more urgent, more intense somehow. It was going against all precautions, but after the things they witnessed, he willing threw them out the window. Who cared if it was still light out, if people were still wandering the village? He had plans. He knew Dorian well enough to realize that he was angry too, pushed on the defensive by his acid accusations, and that meant neither were getting out of this unscathed. Bruises, bite marks, deep, welling scratches, nothing was off limits when it was like that. Cal preferred to leave very little on full display as it was, not like anyone would see the marks, and Dorian might seem like he only had one outfit, but it was more that he had several of the same one. He had other clothes, one's that would cover him nicely, but still leave room for him to remind people he was attractive and he definitely was aware of the fact. Cal stood up, propping a chair under the door handle. This place didn’t have a lock, it was the next best thing. Dorian eyed him curiously, but said nothing. 

 

The last real argument they had was the day he discovered he had taken up blood magic in the first place. His shouting, the insults and lectures did nothing to keep him calm, and it ended when he shoved Dorian into a wall, kissing him to shut him up. Something about that particular moment affected them both, and they’d retreated to the nearest empty room, an unfortunately crowded supply closet, but they somehow made it work. Cal leaned over the table, taking a long drink while his free hand freed the clasps on his tunic, the edges falling open bit by bit until most of his torso was on full display, stopping enticingly just above his groin, the ridges of muscle lining his abdomen usually enough of an invitation. Shrugging it off over the back of the chair after a bit, he emptied his cup, filling it back up. Dorian followed suit, his jaw tensing, not quite wanting to take the bait, but finding it a bit too challenging not to look. 

 

“What do you think they’ll do to him?” Dorian asks. 

 

“I don’t know and I don’t care. I didn’t know him like you did, all I know is the bastard tried to kill me. He’s not the first to try, he won’t be the last, but it still pisses me off. Nothing gets to me quite like an attempt on my life.” Cal replied. 

 

“I take it you’re not going to recommend mercy for him?” he presses. 

 

“If you’re trying to kill my excitement, it’s working. If you like him that much, why don’t you just go see him instead of staying here. No doubt he’d be better company than I am right now.” Cal huffs indignantly. 

 

Dorian shook his head. He pushes back from his seat, discarding bits of clothing on the way around the table. He yanked him from his seat, not slowing as he pushed him back towards the bed. He had hoped he might be less graceful tumbling down, but somehow he made it look elegant and sexy, and it only made his mood that much worse. He hastily untied the lacing of his bottoms, pulling them off with only a little difficulty.

 

“If this is what you wanted, you can say it without being an ass.” Dorian said, not masking the hint of aggression into his words. “You know how this goes and yet you still carry on. I’d almost swear you like the abuse.” 

 

“No more than you do.” Cal fired back. 

 

Dorian tossed his shirt to the side, his pants abandoned moments later. He stretched over him, gripping his jaw firmly, his tongue tracing a path up to his ear, biting and pulling firmly. 

 

“You won’t walk right for a week this time, I’ll make sure of it.” He growled. 

 

“Promises, promises.” Cal says with a disapproving click of his tongue. “It’s all talk at this point.” 

 

They’ve since taken the liberty of leaving some unmentionables here, no one bothered to look anyway. He sighed, reaching for a small flask of lightly scented oil, something he picked up in the Hinterlands, it smelled a little like vanilla, just the faintest suggestion. Of course he’d bothered to rub himself down before he left. Half the reason people probably followed him was because he always smelled amazing. Just then, he could smell the sage on him, and it only made it harder to hold back. The moment he was certain everything was just right, he practically lunged at his neck, biting hard enough to leave bright imprints of his teeth behind before he sucked them into darker marks, His hands trailing down his chest, slowing over his stomach. He diverted at his hips, digging his nails in firmly. Cal bucked his hips with a gasp, trapping his lip between his teeth, trying to be mindful of biting too hard. Harder to explain away a bloody lip when there  _ should _ be nothing to cause it. 

 

Cal raised his legs to his sides, his knees digging in uncomfortably. He took good care of himself for the most part, and his self-tended nails, though short and trimmed feel like talons the way he wields them. Dorian checked to make sure he hadn’t scratched him bloody, but there was nothing but angry red marks, a slight sting. He reaches a hand up, grabbing a fistful of his hair and tugging his head back, mouthing his pulse point before he bit, his hands reaching higher to dig into his shoulders, eyes closing slowly. 

 

“Are you just going to tease like this? I thought you weren’t planning to hold back.” Cal taunted. 

 

He thought about reaching to his back, but even upset, the idea of adding to those marks he hated wasn’t one he’d indulge. He struggled against his lips and tongue for dominance, groaning at the way his teeth occasionally scraped and pulled at his lower lip. Taking the hint, he reached between them, holding himself steady enough to gain entry before he set a relentless pace. He wanted it rough, he was going to get it that way. Cal brought his hands into his short locks, pulling just a bit, interrupting a search for air with a shuddering moan. Locked between his legs like this, there was no give for anything fancy, no trace of anything soft or romantic to the way he ground up into his thrusts. He didn’t care who heard at the moment, but no one really came out this way, save apparently the occasional guard. The bed could creak all it wanted, and mostly his mouth was occupied too frequently to let him get too loud. 

 

It was a small blessing he enjoyed kissing as much as he did, otherwise he’d never have the chance to look at him like this, even though his face was just a reminder of how easily he had gotten to him. Thinking about how he really thought he kept such an important and potentially fatal thing from him made it rise back to sit in his chest, snapping against him harder, enough to make him nearly lose his sturdy hold on him, his back arching up off the mattress, barely keeping his breathing steady, trembling like it was physically painful to hold back the sounds he knew he was trying to hide. He let his right hand free, sneaking it between them, gasping at the extra sensations shooting through him. His lips were swollen and bruised by the time he finally let up, and he suspected he was in a pretty similar condition. His hair was damp with sweat, his head thrown back like he was offering himself completely to him. His nails dragged down his chest again, harder when he dotted his collarbone with red marks, not missing the sticky warmth between them. Dorian followed not far behind, shaking all over from the force of it, pulling back slowly before spreading out over him in a sweaty, messy heap. 

 

He’d liked to have complained about how quickly it was over, but it hadn’t really been all that quick. Besides, like this, they pushed each other to their limits, and it was usually quicker than the long drawn out affairs they preferred when they could steal the time for it. He really had no complaints, he was completely and utterly satisfied, for the moment at least. Even nearly putting him through the rickety old bed wasn’t enough to put him off for too long, regardless how sore he might be. It was actually mildly impressive, almost a skill how frequently he found himself in the right mood. Not always at the most opportune times, either, he would have sworn he wandered out in the middle of a downpour in the fucking Storm Coast to go tend to himself -- twice, in one night. Perhaps the Anchor might have affected him in some way, but truthfully it couldn’t have done much, he was always that way.

 

Cal stared up at him, trying to summon the will to continue to be furious about the situation, but it was too much work. He reached up, guiding his head up just enough to steal a quick, unexpectedly sincere kiss. 

 

“I’m sorry I thought you’d actually betray me like that…” he mumbles with just a vague suggestion of guilt. 

 

“Why would I hurt someone I love like that?” he questions in reply. 

 

Not the first time he’s suggested it, they’ve both outright said as much before. Logic told them both they couldn’t carry on like this forever, that there was really nowhere to go. A doomed cycle of falling into each other and getting wrapped up in the way it felt, of loving someone you can’t stay with forever. 

“Shut it,  _ Sparkler _ .” he says teasingly. “It’s done. I know it wasn’t intentional.” 

 

It was like his nameday came early when Varric bequeathed him with such a fine and appropriate moniker, he couldn’t help but use it on occasion.

 

Cal reluctantly pried himself out from under Dorian, fetching a handkerchief from the pocket of his pants, wiping himself off with a sigh that borders on frustration. He doesn’t mind a messy, rough  _ exercise _ , but he prefers to be clean and kempt outside of that, and the mess he left behind offends his better senses. He moves to stand, already moving in a way that says he wasn’t wrong about his threat. He’d play it off convincingly enough, but there was no denying the unsteady way he moved. He tossed Dorian’s clothes back on the bed, slowly pulling his bottoms up, sitting back down, albeit to one side as he finished dressing. 

 

“I think I need a nice bath…” he says more to himself. “This look might appeal to some but I need work before I grace anyone else with my presence.” 

 

“You’re the real preening peacock here, why am I the only one who gets an atrocious nickname?” Dorian complained. 

 

“I already have a nickname.” he said. 

 

“What is it, something humorous, I hope.” he replied. 

 

“Herald.” Cal shrugged. 

 

Dorian scowled at him, responding in kind with a firm slap on his ass when he moves to try standing fully again. His legs nearly buckled under him, but he steadied himself again, matching his glare entirely. 


	10. Save Our Last Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title came from the song Save Our Ladt Goodbye. 
> 
> https://youtu.be/nMLHFZBBj-U

Dorian watched him leave. Not the first time, but this time might well be the last. Cullen had sounded the alarm, an _army_ pouring down the mountain. Worse still was that Cal was out there. Had intentionally left him behind. A plan of escape was in place, sure, for _them_. He meant to die out there, and he wasn’t going to let him. Cullen and Blackwall had to bodily move him kicking and screaming out, something Cal no doubt ordered himself. He’d never see him again. His only backup had been The Iron Bull, Cassandra and the elven mage. Against that many? There wasn’t enough blood in Haven to protect him. News of Elis’ passing hadn’t hit him as hard as it had him, but losing Cal? It would damn near kill him. It was already beginning to feel like his heart was breaking at the echoing sounds of combat following them out. 

 

Almost halfway up the mountain, he turned back, and he wished he hadn’t. They were surrounded on all sides, and he had no desire to pay witness to his last moments. He was no Herald, but the least he could do was try to make himself presentable and try to help these people. Even if he’d rather just have been left behind, even if his legs didn’t want to move and he couldn’t imagine doing anything at all. Cal was entrusting their safety to him, telling him just how important he was in that action too. He’d have to at least do this much before he let himself fall apart over it. 

 

\---

 

Cal gave a heavy sigh. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this, but with no more potions and no end in sight to the Templars, a possible Archdemon and a creature like that waiting in the wings, there were no more options. They’d slogged their way to the trebuchet, but there seemed to be an endless amount of the red Templars, even Bull looked a little worn. 

 

“Someone handle this…” he instructedly raggedly. 

 

Cassandra switched places with him, Solas keeping up with the barriers as best he could with dwindling mana reserves. Bull swung heavy strikes, not letting up for more than the span of time it took to take a breath. 

 

“What is your plan?” she asked, not looking away.

 

“Not a great one. But it’s the last one I have.” Cal sighed. “I’d recommend you not look.”

 

He reached for a small blade hidden away in a secret fold of his robes. There was no time to prepare, he’d have to hope for the best. Gritting his teeth, he made several deep cuts along his arm, raising his arm out in front of him. His blood spilled out, flowing upward in front of him, piercing through a few of the templars, effectively offering him even more to work with. He never liked the idea of using someone else as his weapon, but these were hardly people anymore. Were it not for that fact, he might have felt a lot worse about it. It helped that these were people linked however closely to the death of his closest friend, one of the last members of his family. He didn’t care at that moment that it was like killing the waiter that served the man who pruned bushes for the man who wronged him, anger was good in this instance. Anger gave him power, hatred gave him power. All of it made him stronger for it, even as the feelings felt like poison, bubbling inside and eating away at everything that made him who he was.

 

“Blood mage…”Cassandra realized, glancing back. 

 

His eyes took on a glowing red appearance not unlike those of the templars he fought, looking back at her for just a second. “Now you see why I told you not to look.” 

 

Holding his right hand out, he made another cut along his arm, forging a blade from it. Ducking and weaving between strikes like they had been slowed enough for him to see where they were going, he slashed throats, stabbed into exposed flesh, the snow flecked with red splatters, fallen bodies ringed around the group. Still, there was no end in sight. 

 

“I’ve got it.” Cassandra announced. 

 

Cal stared up at the sky, barely enough time to see the dragon before it was almost on top of them. He waved the others away. 

 

“Get out of here. Find the others, I’ll distract him.” he told them.

 

“What will you do?” Solas asked.

 

“Keep you alive. Now go.” he repeated. 

 

Bull and Cassandra rushed off immediately, but Solas didn’t, not at first. Cal looked away long enough to wave him off again.

 

“Do me a favor?” he asked. 

 

“What?” Solas wondered. 

 

“Tell Dorian I’m sorry.” he told him.

 

Solas said nothing, but the sound of rapid crunching told him he at least took off like he said. When he glanced back, it was only to come face to face with the Elder One finally. His hand gripped his throat, raising him high off the ground to the point spots swam in his vision, his already labored breath that much harder to catch. 

 

“You’re...one...of...us…” he managed, a hint of curiosity to his tone. “More...reason to stop...you” 

 

His whole arm flared up in unimaginable pain, feeling like a bare moment stretched into time he could no longer comprehend before he finally stopped, tossing him like he weighed nothing. The thick metal crank of the trebuchet dug into his spine when he hit, and he found it very nearly a miracle he was still conscious. Far from being fearful, he slung his arms over his stomach, closing his eyes slowly, a faint smile on his face. There was no escape from this, he rushed in knowing that, but at least Dorian would be safe. The villagers would be safe. Cullen, Josie, all of them, alive and  _ safe _ . He was willing to bet everything he had that no one expected someone from the Imperium to be so selfless. Hell, he never expected to be the one doing it either. He never really saw himself as a hero, and if he chose to be honest, he still didn’t see himself that way. Everything ached, and his mind felt fuzzy. He didn’t have anything left to stand up to him. This was really it then. Dying felt...interesting, to say the least, not at all like he imagined it might be, colder than he thought, less like fading away into unconsciousness. He opened his eyes, noticing the signal from up on the mountain. Good. They were all safe…

 

Cal felt his body slipping, the movement triggering the trebuchet. The avalanche triggered moments later, and he grinned. He might die here, but with luck, so would this bastard and his little pet. His eyes fell shut again, and he heaved a shuddering breath, feeling himself get forced back, falling through breaking bits of wood. Too bad really. ‘He died facing a would-be god and an archdemon’ sounded a lot more badass than ‘he fell through a bunch of planks and ended up a human pincushion.’That was if they ever found his body. The world went dark, and he figured that was it. 

 

Until he awoke to a very angry Dorian staring at him. Something to the effect of cursing him for scaring the shit out of him. For making him take care of him like this, and...he couldn’t focus, not when he could hear his rather suspicious advisors discussing him like he wasn’t right there. 

 

“He did just save our lives. We really shouldn’t be so critical…” Josephine said. 

 

“But really, how can even  _ you _ spin a blood mage from  _ Tevinter _ as anything but awful?” Cullen asked quietly. 

 

“I’ll figure it out. This is not the place to discuss this.” Josephine assured him. 

 

“Really. This is exactly the right place. At least a dozen people have already seen him. You don’t just look at someone with cuts like that and not assume blood magic.” Cassandra said pointedly. 

 

“Without him,  _ you _ would be dead, Cassandra.” Leliana reminded her. “He hasn’t exactly misused it from what I’ve seen, there’s nothing in the reports. If it hadn’t come to this, would you even have known what he was?”

 

Cassandra closed her mouth, clearly wanting to argue it, but the point was a very good one, one she really couldn’t refute. She glanced over at him, only to see he looked a fair bit more upset than he should. Almost everyone got out, he was alive, there was no reason to look like that. Not until she took a step closer, enough to overhear the conversation. 

 

“How did I miss them? I thought I got everyone…” he sighed. “Minaeve? Jeanette? I didn’t even see them...Looks like I’ve failed twice tonight.” 

 

“You...actually meant to die, didn’t you? You told me you were fine!” Dorian shouted angrily. “Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” 

 

“And what would you have done? Told me everything would be fine? That I have to be strong and I’d get past it? There was nothing for it.” Cal said. 

 

“So the memory of a dead friend is more important than leaving me behind to deal with that?” Dorian asked. 

 

Cal bit his lip, hanging his head. “It’s selfish, I know.  _ I’m _ selfish, Dorian. You knew that.” 

 

“Don’t give me that. I’ve had to watch you walk away so many times, and tonight? I thought it was the last time I’d ever see you. Do you know what it was like, leaving you there? You told me not to follow. Do you know how much that hurt?” he said. 

 

Cassandra swallowed down the strange lump in her throat. Maybe she misjudged him a fair bit more than she thought. Taking losses this hard, for people he barely knew? A hidden desire to die over the loss of his cousin? Since she’d found out where he was from, she’d been imagining something less than human, a monster of sorts who only cared about himself. There he was, bleeding all over himself, his face buried in the other man’s chest, trying to hold back tears. She knew plenty of people, but none that would look that close to tears over a serving girl or a Tranquil. Maybe he was a bit more human than she thought. Turning around, she returned to the others, heaving a sigh. 

 

“Let’s just watch for now. I doubt he’s a threat. He’s had plenty of chances to hurt us before now, and he hasn’t…” Cassandra admitted grudgingly. 

 

“I don’t like it.” Cullen sighed. “I can’t abide by blood magic.” 

 

“Cullen...have you even given thought to how many of your men he saved? Very few of your soldiers had cause to lose their lives because of him. That’s a lot less letters to write. The few people we did lose largely had no next of kin. He managed to get almost everyone out. I know why you of all people are suspicious of him, but he hasn’t done anything to warrant that suspicion…” Leliana told him. 

 

“This hardly matters if we can’t figure out where to go.” Cassandra said.

 

“They’ve got you pegged. You’re a good man.” Dorian teased. 

 

“They only say that because they have no idea what a hothead I used to be.” Cal snorted weakly.

 

“Get some rest...We won’t get very far if you can barely move.” He said. 

 

“I don’t want to sleep. I’m fine. We have to figure this out, and I should be there to help.” he argued. 

 

Cal tried to push himself to stand, slipping back down with a hard grunt. 

 

“See what I mean?” he said. 

 

“Maybe a few minutes, but that’s it.” Cal said stubbornly. 

 

“Just lie down. I’ll take care of you.” Dorian said. 

 

He held up his hands, a small, glowing orb in one hand. He was rubbish at healing, but it was probably better than nothing. His left hand came up, barely brushing against his forehead before he fell back. 

 

“ _ Sleep _ .” he urged. 

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Dorian pushed Cal out of his room into the yard. He hadn’t left in days, and people were gathered, anxiously waiting to talk to him. 

 

“Do you have to push so hard? I’m still injured here…” he complained. 

 

“I’m not exactly digging my fingers in your wounds, and you’re pretty much back to normal. You’re acting like a child.” Dorian scolded. 

 

“Sorry,  _ mother _ .” Cal snorted. 

 

“I dearly hope you wouldn’t let your mother touch you the way I do. I’d be ever so hurt.” he said quietly. 

 

Cassandra, Josephine and Cullen all looked his way, beckoning him over. It was rather suspect that so many people were gathered outside, and Leliana standing up the stairs with a sword that looked like it must surely be almost as tall as she was. This was not something he liked. 

 

“Go on, they’re actually  _ trying _ to talk to you.” Dorian said. 

 

Cal heaved a sigh, striding over to them personally. Cassandra walked at his side, talking about how more people were arriving every day, how Skyhold was becoming a pilgrimage of sorts. About how Corypheus had probably already heard the news as well, how they had the numbers and the walls to put up a fight. Cal failed to see the point of telling him things he could infer simply by way of looking around or using only the smallest amount of guessing. She said they knew what allowed him to stand against him, and what drew him to him in the first place. 

 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Cassandra, but I very nearly didn’t survive that encounter. I was alright with that. All for this blighted piece of shit on my hand.” he scoffed.

 

“Trust me when I say this is not easy for me to say. The Anchor gives you power, certainly, but the decisions you made closed the Breach, your determination carried us from Haven. You are his rival because of what you did. I know it, we all know it.” she said, in a way that said it was actually killing her to be nice. 

 

“I took the mages because it was the right thing to do. I wasn’t going to let Alexius mistreat them and let people see my homeland as far worse because of that. I _almost died_ in Haven, I’m still not sure how I made it out, and again, I am only a _rival_ as you say, because he wanted _this mark_. I have done nothing, perhaps _less than nothing_.” Cal argued quietly. 

 

Cassandra came to a stop in by Leliana, who held the sword out in offering. 

 

“The Inquisition requires a leader. The one who has already been leading it.” Cassandra indicated. 

 

Cal stopped dead in his tracks. He eyed the sword as if it made his stomach churn violently, his lip curling slightly in disgust as he looked between the two. This definitely had the feeling of a setup now, the people in the yard, leading him up where everyone could see? It was specifically designed to make him feel as if he couldn’t refuse. Well. They didn’t know him very well then. Cal waved a hand dismissively. 

 

“No. Absolutely not.” He said loudly. 

 

“Why not?” Leliana wondered quietly. 

 

“Have you so quickly forgotten what I’ve done? People,  _ good people _ , died because I failed to notice they were still trapped. I used blood magic, which your chantry frowns upon. I actively tried to get myself killed. I didn’t even help to find this place. Were it not for Solas knowing of it and Dorian leading the way while I was flat on my back bleeding uselessly all over myself, we would have froze to death on that mountain. Remind me again what I’ve actually done to deserve being put in charge?” Cal asked, a hint of acid in his tone. 

 

“You’re ignoring the good. You saved lives, faced down Corypheus and got him to retreat, buying us the time we needed to get away. Beyond that, you are still alive. The people view you as a sign of hope, they need that, you could-” Leliana insisted. 

 

“No.” Cal repeated firmly. “Don’t ask this of me again.” 

 

He turned away before they could try again to change his mind. He eyed the tavern across the yard, heading back in that direction. Besides, he already had a full schedule today, no time for this leadership business. Dorian tailed behind him, knowing that even in his worst of moods, he wouldn’t refuse him. Drinking alone, even in a crowded tavern was simply too depressing even for him. Hell, Cassandra could have sat down with him, and he’d have happily drank the day away with her too, so long as it didn’t mean he had to sit alone. 

 

“You didn’t even hesitate.” Dorian commented, waiting while the drinks were set on the table. “I would have imagined you’d at least consider it.”

 

Cal stared at him over the rim of his glass, like he thought he had lost it too. “Dorian. Not you too.”

 

“Why not me? This is exactly what you claimed you wanted. A chance to change things for Tevinter. Let them see we’re not all assholes, and I guarantee it could only help. They already adore you.” he said. 

 

“They adore my face. They like my body. They don’t  _ know _ me.” Cal snorted. 

 

“Right, and that’s why there’s a Qunari running around calling you ‘boss’, why there’s people that willingly entrusted you with their safety, took up this cause.” He muttered. “This is only something you could have done here. Try that back home, and see how quickly they’re all slaughtered just to get to you.” 

 

“I tried to help. I failed. It’s someone else’s job to take their shot.” Cal said dismissively. “You want them to have a decent person in charge? Why don’t you go tell them you’ll do it. You have the added advantage of no blood magic. You’re not the one who will have to deal with Giselle’s lecturing.”

 

“Maker, perish the thought. I don’t think so. Try as I might, I’m not nearly as charming as you. I don’t want the spotlight that badly.” He countered immediately. 

 

“You think I want that? I blame myself for everything as it is. I don’t even know if the Divine actually died because of me, Varric even said thousands died in that explosion. People lost their lives and it could very well be my fault. They let it go so easily, and they never should have. I never should have hid what I was, where I was from. If I had been honest from the start, they’d have done the right thing and gotten rid of me the minute the Breach was no longer a threat.” Cal said. 

 

“Then everyone would have died in Haven. Just because Corypheus said one thing doesn’t inherently have to mean that maybe the Maker  _ did _ have a hand in this at all.” Dorian said. 

 

“You don’t believe that.” Cal said pointedly. “You’re smart enough to have doubts.”

 

“Maybe I don’t believe it, but I never stopped believing in you. If they want you to lead, and you know it can only help, I honestly think you should.” Dorian sighed. 

 

“I think we need a new topic. If this is how it’s going to go, I’d rather just go back to my room. I’d take drinking alone after being nagged about my decisions.” Cal told him. 

 

He fell silent in a way that said there was no more room for discussion, refilling his glass with a glare frozen on his face. Dorian could let it go for now, but he definitely wasn’t going to drop it entirely. He had to at least make an effort to pick himself up sometime. This wasn’t the way he was before he left the last time. 

 

“Why did you leave, before?” Dorian asked quietly. 

 

“I was invited. Elis wanted to spend a little time together before the Conclave.” Cal shrugged. 

 

“You know what I mean. You left well before that.” Dorian repeated. 

 

“It was your father. He told me I should take time away. Magister Pavus felt the reason you weren’t interested in taking up with the woman he wanted you to marry was because I was a bad influence, put ideas in your head. Said that if I left, you’d be able to focus appropriately and would see that I was only causing trouble for you.” Cal admitted guiltily. 

 

“Really? He said that, did he?” Dorian asked, clearly surprised. “So instead of ignoring him like you usually do, you saw fit to listen for once and left?” 

 

“It didn’t sound like I had much choice.” Cal said. “So rather than run the risk of causing extra problems for you or giving him time to do something drastic on my account, I thought taking a trip was a good idea. Besides, I knew you were busy…”

 

“You have no idea what he did…” Dorian muttered. “You left me on my own. No context, no reasoning. You just left. I didn’t even get my goodbye until after you were already gone…” 

 

“I wanted to tell you in person, I worried it would change my mind. You were everything to me, if you have asked for my heart, I would have let you rip it out gladly. I loved you,  _ love you _ . I thought maybe he found out, and I got scared.” Cal sighed. 

 

“That is why it hurts like this. You know how I feel and you still walked away. Left me on my own to deal with the aftermath. He didn’t know a thing, he only knew my inclinations, not who I dallied with,  _ you _ were safe.” Dorian muttered. 

 

“Well...it’s no consolation at all, I’m sure. I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere. Say the word. We’ll run away together, anywhere you like.” Cal offered. 

 

“Right. I’d rather you see this out. You started this, if we leave now, we won’t make it anywhere. Not with a magister that old pissed off at specifically you.” Dorian huffed like he had chosen to offend Corypheus on purpose. “Put him down, and then we’ll run away.” 

 

“You sure don’t ask for much. I hear most are content with flowers or little gifts, small displays of affection. You want me to kill the man who may have actually began the Blights like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do. Here I thought you weren’t so greedy.” he teased. 

 

“I’ll take the flowers and gifts  _ later _ .” Dorian said with a grin. “As far as being greedy? Of course I am. This is you, we’re talking about. I could be much more demanding, and you’d still scramble to please me.”

 

“Too bad you don’t do the same. I’ve hardly had a chance to get you alone for a little while without being bothered. It’s not the same if I have to take care of myself…” Cal pouted. 

 

There was no concern about being overheard with the tavern at a loud roar all around them, the laughing and conversations had been rather useful in covering it up, and he was a man all about taking advantage of a situation. 

 

“You need to get away so people leave you alone, right? Why don’t we take a trip? Still some rifts in the Hinterlands, and it isn’t far. You deal with those, I deal with you, everyone is happy.” he suggested. 

 

“That sounds like a goo-” he began. 

 

“There you are.” Varric said cheerfully. “Need to talk to you.” 

 

Cal resisted the urge to upset the table if only because that was a waste of subpar alcohol. He forced a pleasant smile despite feeling none of that cheer at the moment. Varric took a seat between them, leaning in a bit. 

 

“What can I do for you?” He asked in what he hoped was a calm voice. 

 

“Well, you see I have this friend who might have some useful information to give you.” he began. 

 

“Alright, bring this friend by later and I’ll -” Cal tried again. 

 

“No can do. See...Cassandra would kill me. Said friend is one I may have told her I couldn’t find. Easier for all involved if you meet them privately. Say...on the battlements?” Varric suggested. 

 

“You know very well that’s the most obvious place here. Send them by my quarters after dark when the guard is low.” Cal said. 

 

“Alright, alright. If that’s what you want, but I warn you he’s a bit...ehh...you’ll find out soon enough I suppose.” Varric shrugged. 

 

“Well, _now_ you have my attention. A friend that even you’re at a loss for how to describe? I have to meet him, this should be good.” Cal laughed. 


End file.
